CUBAN ART AND ITS TIME

One of the most difficult tasks today—both for national and international critics and art historians—is defining what is happening and to what extent in contemporary Cuban art. After two decades of the 21st century, marked by transformations in content and formal expression inspired by local versions of conceptualism and global minimalism, and by modest experimentation with new technologies, Cuban artists have become increasingly aware of how to engage with international art discourses and languages, as well as with the country’s official institutions and a growing network of independent, private galleries.

This awareness allows them to be part of a new web of exchanges with Cuban experts and a network of curators, critics, collectors, and art dealers who regularly visit the island. Although younger generations have learned to establish subtle relationships with the national socio-political context—as was powerfully the case in the 1980s and 90s—what we witness today are multiple changes, shifts, and transformations in a short period. Artistic processes now incorporate new approaches taught in higher education art programs that emphasize investigative and process-based art. Moreover, a rich diversity can be observed in exhibition and distribution methods that go beyond the conventional spaces we are accustomed to.

 

Amid these transformations, younger creators find their artistic processes reshaped through encounters with various professional fields in Cuba. ­­

Their visions are further enriched by steady streams connected to cultural currents beyond the island’s shores. This flow of ideas persists even when access is scarce, like a river threading its way through rock. Professors, attuned to this quest for knowledge, weave together theory and practice in workshops across the landscape of higher education, stepping into the circle with their students to share through bold, experimental exchanges of thought. In this way, the intellectual changes underway are enriching almost every field of creative work.

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Today there is greater intent and maturity in rethinking art, its history, and the circumstances in which it develops—even as embers remain from the fire at the end of the last century, much discussed and written about in and outside Cuba. Mid-career and younger artists are better equipped to question the grand narratives legitimized by the Western art world, thereby reinforcing the notions of continuity and rupture that characterized much of Cuba’s symbolic production throughout the 20th century. Gone are the old conceptions like utopia, which for many years played a leading role in Cuban art, strongly rooted in what we might, without prejudice, call “political correctness.”

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They have pushed past limits and borders in search of deterritorialization and inclusivity, aiming to expand the creative freedoms and move away from signs of banality, commercialization, and triviality. These artists move toward a rich plurality of aesthetic options and a multipolarity of practices and artistic operations. Nearly all identify as multidisciplinary artists.

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Over the years, the country's reality has eroded the foundations of any utopian project. Political and ideological illusions have faded, giving way to agnosticism, irony, and cynicism in a search for new "illusions" suited to present times. Utopia, metaphorically speaking and in current terms, has emigrated beyond the island.

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To be clear, the current situation is highly complex across nearly all aspects of our social and individual behavior: mass exodus of age groups, shortages of basic everyday products (including near-total absence of electricity), zero labor productivity, the increasing appearance of dollar-based markets while salaries are paid in Cuban pesos, lack of liquidity in the banking system, a growing informal economy, inadequate pensions for retirees, inefficient public transportation, environmental deterioration in towns and cities across the country, and precarious education and healthcare systems… along with many other unnamed issues.

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This complexity makes it difficult for many young artists to act as “chroniclers” of their time, as previous generations once did, sparking intense debates and controversies within Cuban cultural circles. The sheer number of issues today overwhelms us both emotionally and intellectually. These artists prefer to express themselves without resorting to the obvious, the clear, the direct. They’ve left behind that kind of “visual and aesthetic journalism,” those emphatic commentaries so favorable to critics, historians, and general audiences, and have focused more on the creative experience, on the recycling of materials, and on the alternatives offered by new exhibition spaces.

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They still comment on daily life and general aspects of society, of course, but from new angles and perspectives—where metaphors, ellipses, humor, irony, and a subtle dramaturgy come into play, showing masks that conceal the true meaning of their proposals. They seek to clarify their own roles in contemporary art and to rethink the use of certain languages and codes to expand art more and more, to contaminate and cross-pollinate it, to break, distort, and transform its own traditions and values. They live and work in constant questioning, where reality is subjected to the scrutiny of their academic training and their dialogues with other artists and experts.

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They are not obsessed with seeking roots or traditions, nor with re-functionalizing popular, vernacular, or kitsch cultures. They distance themselves from archaeological or ethnological approaches and immerse themselves in the complex world of current information and communication, leading to new strategies of presentation and representation. They are interested in their country and its contexts—but at the same time in the passion and globalism of the world as another way of reinforcing the concept of fusion, mixture, and hybridization of the local and the universal.

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Most understand that the history of Cuban art is a different one. They participate in the great transformations taking place—with or without the mediation of institutions or "cultural policies" in which they no longer believe. They walk a razor’s edge and a tightrope, like skilled acrobats. They negotiate the opportunities presented to them, both within and outside of Cuba, carefully, respectfully, and thoughtfully.

They take advantage of the gradual growth of alternative exhibition spaces to show their work—whether in homes, apartments, open studios, or renovated ruins used for performances and interventions not typical in the cultural context. They even afford themselves the luxury of organizing creation contests and workshops, offering grants and residencies to foreign artists, fully aware of the challenge this poses to the institutional and official art system.

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We are therefore witnessing a partially hidden and tentative decentralization of Cuba’s art system, achieved through the artists’ intellectual audacity and self-financing: they always find diverse ways to carry out their projects in any circumstance.

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Paradoxically, this delicate panorama does not signal paralysis or a decline in creative processes. Quite the contrary—there is more artistic fervor now than ever before. Every week, 4 or 5 solo or group exhibitions open in Havana—averaging 20 a month and nearly 200 a year—alongside catalog, video, and book launches, artist-led panels and lectures, and more. It could be said that Cuban artists are "heroes" (despite the historical connotations of the word) due to the creative spirit they demonstrate daily, without receiving the recognition or rewards they deserve. They are undeterred by anything if it means realizing their work and fulfilling lost dreams. Their capacity for resistance and resilience is undeniable, and at times, they share it with the rest of society.

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Those who have chosen to live abroad maintain their sense of belonging to the Island amid complex processes of rearticulating their identities. Some travel frequently, safeguarding a family status that offers them emotional and psychological stability. They have set aside the old dilemma of exile and diaspora—which fractured Cuban contemporary art decades ago and helped reframe insularity as a unique and appealing phenomenon to experts and audiences worldwide. Terms like inside-outside, made in Cuba, and in-out once marked difficult debates about national identity. Today, Cuban artists approach these and other issues with elegance, ease, and fluidity—without adopting extreme positions.

This brief overview may help in understanding a broader, more complex phenomenon. The works in this exhibition (thanks to the collaboration and enthusiasm of Malin Barth at Kunsthall 3,14) should facilitate a better understanding of the plurality and complexity of Cuban art—despite the belief of some that the grave challenges facing Cuban society would extinguish its artistic expressions. On the contrary, crises often give rise to unexpected aesthetic realities that challenge the crude correlation between material infrastructure and cultural or spiritual superstructure. In doing so, these artists demonstrate a kind of cosmopolitanism—not one based on fetishizing the foreign or staying fashionably “up to date”—but one rooted in a shared hunger and knowledge akin to their foreign peers. They feel the world as their world, even though the country lacks a healthy environment for critical discussion (with specialized magazines and newspaper art criticism having disappeared, there is no real feedback loop).

Today, there is a vast and at times overwhelming production of art. With the rise of private art spaces and their inevitable competition with official institutions, a kind of cultural ambivalence now defines much of Cuban symbolic production, both on and off the island. It’s not about which dominates, but about understanding the vast geography of this aesthetic landscape, where many generations of artists coexist and countless events unfold.

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No fiery manifestos or proclamations are being issued—instead, caution, reflection, and balance prevail. However, the newest generation openly embraces bold and irreverent expressions that challenge the foundations of historical, collective, and individual imagination. Historically accepted codes and values may shake… but they don’t fall. Everything that happens here—and around the globe—intrigues and inspires them. It is in this continuous interplay of encounter and disencounter that we find some keys to understanding the nature of contemporary artistic practices in Cuba.

They move fluidly from photography to painting, from object-making to installation and video, from printmaking to sculpture—and when the moment calls for it, they perform with the same rigor and professionalism. A holistic conception of creation and the human being—one that is inclusive—guides this kind of multidisciplinary approach that needs no extra label. It’s difficult to classify them solely as painters or draftsmen, or to say someone is just a photographer, performer, printmaker, or sculptor. They are all of these—and more.

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Their influences come from Cuba, Latin America, and also Europe, Scandinavia, Asia, and the United States. They are post-historical, post-militant, post-philosophical, post-revolutionary, digitalized, and interconnected. They live submerged in the depth of their insular night—but with eyes wide open toward the first light of day, to the sun of a morally complex world that, nevertheless, continues to shine on us. They sleep little. Their perpetual vigilance transcends them, honors them, deifies and subverts them. This exhibition is a sum of individualities.

Let us enjoy then the polyphony of visual voices emitted by creators who embrace the noise and sounds of contemporary life—emerging from all forms of culture. What we will witness in the exhibition space is an unfinished dramaturgy, an incomplete, heterogeneous orchestration.

Cuban art does not long for definitions or certainties but for possibilities born from its daily practice and the best from so many different places.

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Nelson Herrera Ysla

Havana, July 2025

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Nelson Herrera Ysla (Morón, Cuba, 1947) is an art critic, curator, and poet. He has published numerous books of critical texts, essays, and poetry. A co-founder of the Havana Biennial and the Wifredo Lam Center of Contemporary Art—where he continues to serve as a member of the curatorial staff—he was Deputy Director of the Havana Biennial for fifteen years and later its Director for three years. Over the course of his career, he has received Cuba’s National Awards for Criticism and Curatorship on several occasions.